Recovery
by Hinakage
Summary: Vince Noir awakes in the middle of nowhere and finds he is a very different person; in fact, he's no longer human! He must find out who has changed him into a blood-sucking vampire and their reason for it.
1. Chapter 1

"… What? …"

It took a few minutes for him to get his head together. For a moment, he couldn't even remember his own name.

Vince Noir… He sat up, trying to remember where he was, and then realizing he didn't have any idea to begin with. His head hurt and so he didn't particularly want to think, but he looked around and tried to work out his location, anyway.

It was dark, so he didn't expect to see much. For a second he didn't, but his eyes immediately adjusted and he could see with amazing clarity. Still, he didn't recognize his surroundings. He was in a long alley near nothing he was familiar with.

There was a burning feeling in his throat. Taking this into account along with everything else caused him to wonder for a moment if maybe he might have been drinking the night before.

But no—a memory came to him, hazy at first, but it grew clearer. He was running. Running… from someone?

He strained to remember more but something else became more urgent—his hair. It was so tangled than he could _feel_ the knots against his head. He reached up to touch it, slightly afraid of what awaited his hand…

It felt matted, like something sticky had dried into it. Vince whimpered as he stood up. He had to see his reflection, even though it might kill him to see himself. He walked around searching for anything to see his reflection, when he noticed a disgusting scent. He walked further but it followed him even after he was out of the alley. Was it coming from him?

It smelled a bit… like death.

Eventually Vince came across a puddle. As he saw his face, a warm feeling erupted in his stomach, washing through his body. He was even more beautiful, but so pale…

He fell suddenly to his knees over the puddle, with a harsh thud and an outburst of shock and pain, and stared hard at himself. He wouldn't have been able to see it, not normally, but his suddenly unnaturally powerful eyesight revealed that he was covered in dried blood.

He stared at himself for what seemed like forever, although it was probably only a few minutes, pulling a dried mix of blood and his own hair from his head. He could believe what he was doing, but he continued, anyway. Another memory was coming to him. It was blurred, like he was blind. He saw himself as he ran. He tripped over his own feet and a few seconds later, he saw no more…

Across the street, he saw a building with a clock that showed the day's date. There was absolutely no one around, and every light was out in the neighboring houses. He ran frantically across the street and read the clock.

September 4th, 1:33 AM.

He read it again, to make sure he hadn't been seeing things. It was _September_? It couldn't be.

He placed a hand on the window, playing with his hair. He saw his reflection again. His mouth hung open, and he noticed something else: two long, sharp fangs where his canines used to be.

He shut his mouth and put a hand over it. He tried to forget and focused again on the date.

He stepped back in shock. If it really was September, then it was months after the last time he knew what was going on; going out to buy some Hula Hoops. Was that when all this started?

He immediately thought of Howard, Naboo, Bollo… Would they be worrying about him? Who was he kidding? He was VINCE NOIR. Of _course_ they would be.

He went to find out where he was, but first, to get himself cleaned up. He walked away from the building, hand still covering his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

He felt like he'd been walking for hours. The smell he thought of as "death" was now much weaker, and he also was much cleaner than before. His hair was less knotted and sticky but now just too unmanageable. He glanced round; he knew where he was now, a few streets away from the Nabootique. Would they be glad to see him? What would he say? He felt his hands begin to shake.

"What will Howard think?" He gasped, once again catching his smooth tongue on his sharp fangs that hung where his canines used to be. He put one hand over his now open mouth and felt them. In disbelief he shook his head.

"This isn't happening to me," he thought. "I'm Vince Noir. I'm made of candy floss, I can't be dead…"

He turned the corner, looked up and gasped. The Nabootique, same as ever, only there were notices outside the shop. Lots of them.

He ran over quickly filled with excitement and dread. Half of him glad just to be home, the other half worried about his new look.

As the notices came into view he saw how many of them were pictures of himself. He put his hand on the cold window of the shop and read aloud.

"Missing: Vince Noir. Last seen outside Costcutters. 24 Hallam street. If anyone has seen him, please contact Howard Moon on 07944796451"

Vince read the notice over and over again.

"They were worried over me?" he said softly, his voice full of regret and depression. He spun round quickly to see that the street was full of pictures of him.

"How long have I been gone?" he whispered, looking into the black void known as space.

The door opened with a familiar creak and ring of a bell. The air smelt damp, but, sweet, something about it. Just so yummy, he couldn't put his finger on it. He could hear someone's quick breathing. Howard.

"Shit!" thought Vince, as he realized that the sweet smell could well be blood.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," called someone from the store room.

"Howard?" Vince breathed.

"I said we're closed," the voice called once more.

Vince panicked. He threw one hand over his face as he realized how strong the scent was becoming. He could hear shuffling of feet coming closer, a heartbeat.

"I shouldn't be here," he thought quickly. The scent was so luring. It was becoming too strong now. He squeezed his nose shut with his fingers and closed his eyes.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to a squint fearing the worst, it was Howard.

"Vince? Is that you?" The tall man questioned.

Vince stayed quiet, trying not to catch the scent once more. His throat was burning like someone had set fire to it. He felt so thirsty.

"Vince?!" he asked once more.

"Yeah, it's me," he whispered slowly sighing at the sight of his friends shocked face. He wanted so much just to go and hug Howard tell him everything would be okay and that he was sorry. But things had changed now, Vince wondered whether he should just leave as if he had never existed, But Howard had seen him now. It was impossible.

"No, it can't be!" the man gasped. "You're dead!"

_Yeah, you've got one thing right,_ Vince thought. "No, I'm here, how can I be dead Howard?" he questioned.

"Vince, I've missed you so much!" Howard exclaimed, Pulling Vince to his feet, He forced himself to stay down but the older man's strength pulled him up with ease. "Where have you been?!"

Vince opened his eyes wider. He looked just the same as before, same fashion sense, same cappuccino stain moustache. The older man smiled, tears staining Vince's shirt as he pulled him into a hug. Vince gasped as his hand moved away from his nose. Howard smelt… so nice. Almost tempting, so tempting. Like, he just had to…

"NO!" Vince screamed, pulling away from Howard, and clamping a hand over his nose and mouth instinctively.

Howard stared at the young mod, still in mid shock. "Vince, what's wr—"

"—GET AWAY FROM ME!" Vince screamed once more, realizing how much he sounded like an animal. How much his throat was burning. How much he just wanted—

"I have to go…" he spat, running out of the door leaving the confused older man behind.

He'd run for what seemed like miles, not in any particular direction, just away from the shop. Away from Howard. It was dark still, 3 AM. People would be waking soon. He wandered into a nearby alley. It began to rain softly.

"What the fuck have I done with my life?" He spoke in almost a whisper.

Vince rubbed at his swollen red eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. It had been weeks since he had last been home, to the dusty flat in the Nabootique, to what he called civilization and now that he'd finally been back, it had struck him. He'd been missing for months but to him it felt like only a few days. The tears he'd thought he'd finished shedding fell gracefully down his cheeks as he took another step forward down the dark void of the alley. His legs gave way slowly as he slumped against the nearby wall next to him. He let his body slowly slide against the building he was just in, and pulled his jacket over his tiny, pale, stick-thin body, leaving his face exposed. He pulled the hood of it over his dull, lifeless hair as the rain started falling harder.

"I know you'd be pissed if your precious hair got wet." He mocked what Howard would have said in this situation if he was here with him. He tried to laugh but failed miserably.

Hours passed, Vince ignored the glares, the whispers of crowds and the gasps of disgust of people who had walked by the mouth of the alley. The rain seemed to poor harder as Vince's thumb glided over his tiny gleaming blue iPod he'd stolen from the shop as he left. He realized how it didn't work as much now, he pondered it for a second. After realizing he was dead and had no body heat he gave up on trying to find all his favourite tracks and stuck to shuffle. He had no intention of listening to the meaning of the tracks that played through but he had to take his mind off the bigger picture. Howard.

Everyone would be worried about him now back home. He was precious Vince, the sunshine kid. He struggled to crack a smile. How weak that sentence was now. Sunshine… He was far from it. He sighed and continued listening to his tracks.

"Hey, what we got ere den?" someone called from the distance.

Vince sighed, He wasn't in the mood to be pushed around, he was hungry, wet, and his hair was a mess, not that he cared so much now.

"Hey babe, you all alone?" another person called.

Drunken laughter filled the air, Vince looked up slowly. Three teenagers all dressed in black hoodies, baseball hats and terrible music coming from their phones walked stupidly toward him. He laughed quietly looking back down at his knees. A small joke Howard had once made about chavs filled his mind as he lifted his head up to rest against the wall and turned to look at small gang who was only a few feet away from him now.

"What you laughing at?" one of the more intelligent of the bunch interrogated him.

Vince stopped laughing and sighed before looking right into one of the boy's eyes. He noticed the youngster jump, but he stood his ground, obviously not wanting to look scared in front of his friends. Vince let his head relax again and rest against the wall. Tucking his iPod in his pocket, he laughed once and stared up at the night sky. A bottle flew and hit the side of his face, the fragile object mashing into thousands of tiny pieces as it scattered around him. Vince picked up one of the shards and examined it in his pale fingers.

"Do you believe in life after death? I didn't, It's not as genius as it sounds." Vince sighed, slowly getting to his feet. His coat dropped from over his head as he stretched his body out to his full height letting the cool rain pour all over his exposed skin and soaking his hair. He flashed his teeth towards them. He watched as the boys backed away slowly.

Vince pounced.


	3. Chapter 3

It was past noon when Vince came back to the Nabootique, not knowing what else to do. He sat down and shut his eyes tight, trying hard to forget what had happened early that morning.

"What have I done?" he whispered. "How could I have done it? I would never have—"

"—And where have you been?" Vince sighed. He was still for a moment, but, realizing there was nothing else he could do, turned slowly to face Howard.

When Vince didn't reply, Howard asked, "Is there something wrong?"

Vince opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He shook his head. "N-no," he forced himself to say. "Nothing's wrong…"

His friend eyed him suspiciously. _I should have known he wouldn't fall for that,_ Vince thought. _He knows me too well._

Howard sat down next to him. Vince scooted away from him automatically, afraid of a replay of their last encounter.

But it didn't help, because then Howard moved closer. "Vince, what's wrong?" he pressed.

"It's nothing!" Vince insisted, trying not to catch the scent of Howard's blood, and trying to ignore the sound of his heart. "I don't want to talk about it."

Howard looked at him for a few seconds, but questioned no further.

There was a rattle in the storeroom. A door clicked behind them, a small shaman appeared behind them. "What's happened to you?" he said when he saw Vince.

"What do you mean? Nothing's happened," Vince said, shaking his head, hoping Naboo would accept the answer more easily than Howard had.

Naboo looked curious. Vince wondered if he might be guessing at what he was hiding, or maybe had caught sight of his fangs when he spoke. But the shaman turned, sighed, and walked away.

The quiet moment that followed dragged like an hour. Vince felt uneasy being so close to Howard, and he was grateful when the older man broke the silence.

"Did you hear about those three who were found dead earlier?" he asked, eyeing the newspaper in the corner of the room. He was only trying to make conversation, but, of course, it didn't help Vince at all. It only made him fearful.

"…What?" he said, his voice trembling a bit.

"It wasn't far from here, just a few streets away. Apparently, they were attacked by some kind of animal."

_Animal_. The word struck Vince like an arrow. "I didn't mean to do it… I couldn't help it… It's not my fault…" he whispered.

"What's that?" said Howard.

Vince was startled. "Nothing, it wasn't meant for you to hear."

"Vince," Howard said. "Tell me what's wrong."

Vince stood up. "Just leave me alone, okay?!"

He left the room, leaving the startled Howard behind.

Vince ran straight to the bathroom, hoping _maybe_ he could be alone with his thoughts for a while. He felt so overcome by stress… He didn't blame himself for all the trauma caused from being so different to everyone else over the past few days. He let his mind wander slightly. He wondered about the people who caused themselves pain to fix whatever was wrong… He wondered if it really worked…

He picked up a razor.

He dragged it, gleaming, down his pale icy skin. Stroke after stroke, nothing happened. He pressed harder, dragging it across his arm. Still, nothing. He stopped and sighed as he realized, "I don't even bleed… Genius…" This was all just so wrong! People were meant to bleed when they were hurt! He couldn't stand it. He threw the razor swiftly across the room as he lifted his head up slowly. He saw his reflection, almost exactly as he remembered it, every feature familiar and perfect… Yet it was the face of a stranger.

Anger built up inside him and he punched the mirror. It shattered into a million pieces, each shard sparkling as it caught the light. He looked at his fist which was embedded in the wall. Not a broken bone nor a cut, not even a single scratch.


	4. Chapter 4

Vince shivered and blinked open his eyes. It was still dark. His clock shone dimly out in the darkness. 04:37. It wasn't even morning yet.

_That's what you get for storming off to bed so early in the evening_, he thought to himself.

He rubbed his face, finding it coated in cool sweat. He gave the reflection in the mirror across from him a "What the hell?" face before he shivered once again at the thoughts running through his head and pulled his duvet tighter. Still no reassurance. He wriggled against his sheets, but they were damp with his sweat and stuck to him. He pondered for a moment of how he could sweat before shrugging off the thought and peeling himself away from the covers.

He put his head in his hands. He couldn't go to sleep, even if he wanted to. He just pretended to sleep for Howard. He glanced at the clock once more before sighing. He couldn't sit here for hours, he didn't have the attention span required to amuse himself. He stood up and nearly fell back down; his legs were weak like he was ill. He mocked himself as if to think that he was still half asleep and he let his new instincts guide him, without any clue where he thought he was going.

He made it to the door and opened it without a sound. His hand rested on the doorknob of his room for about a minute, wondering what the hell he was thinking of doing. He rubbed his eyes. Part of him felt as if it was so tired and desperate that he could have sat down, right there and then, and it could've made him cry until he drifted to sleep, though he knew that he never could sleep again. But he didn't. Instead, with one hand still furiously rubbing his eye, he turned the handle and closed the door smoothly behind him. If he'd had a blanket, he'd have looked perfectly like a child who had just had a nightmare, which really was what Vince was trying to avoid.

He instinctively stepped over the creaky floorboard and padded barefoot across the small gap between his room and the staircase.

There was no one in the shop when he had turned the corner of the stairs almost an hour ago. He glanced around quickly before noticing no one was going to come in anytime soon and sat down lazily on the small sofa at the side of the room. He ran his fingers over his fangs before glancing once more… Still no one…

There was a shallow creak of a floorboard behind him and the shuffling of feet. Vince glanced round quickly, closing his mouth before glancing round once more.

"No one can find out," he thought to himself calmly "Not if I keep my mouth shut." He sighed at the ceiling while screwing up handfuls of the cover next to him in his hand, clearly terrified of anyone finding out. He let his head rest against the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and his lips slightly apart. He let his mind wander.

His nightmare had finally come true. It terrified him to the extreme. He'd killed innocent people. He could still hear the screams in his mind, could still see the knife they held, the stabbing, the cutting, the blood, the gore, the puddle, the bodies, the fearsome creature that he was, poised and ready to plunge into their pulsing hearts.

He shuddered at the thought of what he was. It had been an accident. He hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't meant to do anything that, He just wanted to be alone.

He sighed, pushing away the tattered bright blue blanket away from him, leaning forward, he put his head in his hands.

"Vince, you ball bag," a small, lispy voice called from behind him.

Vince froze for a second before quickly getting up and turning to the face the small shaman.

_Act natural_, Vince thought to himself, casually messing his hair up with one hand while his other arm stretched out above him and forcing himself into a fake yawn.

"No use in hiding Vince..." Naboo sighed walking up to the confused electro poof. "I know what you are…"

"Tired?" Vince asked sheepishly. He struggled to remain calm as panic rose up inside him. _How did he find out? Was it the way I talk? I don't look that different, do I?_ Thoughts filled his head one after the other, each one eating away at the very centre of his brain cell. He sighed and turned to face the window, the cold autumn rain pelting against the brittle windowpane. He thought about just running out and leaving the shop forever, but he couldn't leave Howard. Not again.

"Vince, are you even listening to me?" The small figure behind him growled. Vince turned to face the angry shaman; he hadn't noticed that while he was daydreaming Naboo had been talking to him.

"M'sorry What was you saying?" Vince stretched once more while Naboo walked slowly but calmly behind his friend.

Vince raised a shaking hand to his neck rubbing it in worry. How come Naboo didn't smell... good? As Howard or any other person he had met? He glanced behind his shoulder at the small figure pacing behind him. He felt something sharp. Something cold ran down his neck. Water? Thoughts crowded his mind, his tiny brain cell struggling to come up with possibilities. No, it couldn't be. He pulled his hand back slowly to examine it carefully. He gasped, his knees buckling at the sight of the thick crimson liquid running down his pale fingertips that shimmered beneath the soft glow of the Nabootique lights.

Vince sank to the floor, his thin legs crumpling up in a pile beneath him. What had Naboo done to him? He clutched his neck rocking his body in shock, like a small child clutching its favourite teddy bear. Pain soared throughout his body; he let out a small yelp somewhere in between a cry of pain and shock. A mixture of emotions coursed throughout his body. His eyelids became heavy, the world around him beginning to blur.

"…Shit." he winced, he felt himself falling, his vision fading as collapsed onto the cold, hard floor of the shop. He glanced slowly with what little vision he had. He felt like he was watching an old film, the black and grey smudges covering every item, nothing recognizable. He starred at the black blur that he guessed of the small shaman who was walking towards him.

Why me? He thought to himself as the pain increased.

He blacked out.


End file.
